CONTENT WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence, blood, guns, torture
The click of metal on metal and the shuffle of feet echoed through the room and combined with the din of general conversation and the buzzing of the score boxes to build up to a proper racket.
Levi took a sip from his water bottle as his gaze tracked the fencers up and down the strip. It was only a practice tournament, but Levi was currently undefeated in the pools and he had no plans on going down any time soon.
He watched until the bout was over—Tom absolutely crushed Peter with a final score of 15 to 4—until glancing around the room again. Levi’s attention caught on Coach; he was talking to a man who looked like he had no business in a fencing club and before Levi had much time to observe the newcomer, Coach was pointing toward him and the stranger started walking over.
Levi scrambled to his feet, mask tucked under one arm and epée lying abandoned on the ground. The man was dressed to the nines in the slickest suit Levi’d ever seen. Though he had several inches on the man, Levi couldn’t help but feel small in the stranger’s presence.
The man extended his hand for Levi to shake. “Levi Mercer.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “We have some things to discuss.”
—————
The buzzing fluorescents cast the room and its occupants in a sickly glow. The room was sterile—white walls, white tiled floor, a shiny silver table, and a drain in the center of the floor than Levi didn't want to think about too hard. He shifted uncomfortably and risked a glance at the people around him. There were three, two men and one woman, and they were all wearing the same things Levi was given: a white t-shirt and khaki pants. All looked as out of place as Levi felt. He was halfway through convincing himself to talk to one of them when the door swung open and the man from the fencing club walked in, a briefcase in hand. He set the briefcase on the table and clicked it open and inside were—
Guns?
Five of them. Handguns. Black and metal and as impersonal as they come.
Levi grew up with a police officer for a father so he'd seen guns before, but he'd never actually held one and seeing these up close made Levi balk.
Without speaking a word, the man took one of the guns and with deft motions took it apart, setting the pieces purposefully on the table. After a heartbeat, he reversed the whole process until he was left holding the handgun all in one piece.
"No one is leaving this room until they can take their gun apart and put it back together in under two minutes," the man said flatly.
Two minutes? Levi was hardly able to follow the blur of the man's hands, and now he was supposed to do it for himself?
"Well?" the man spoke again, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Better get started. This is the easiest thing we're going to do today."
—————
Levi was dripping with sweat and gasping for air. A sharp pain in his side told him that at least one rib was broken. He hardly managed to block the next swing before stumbling back.
In a moment of sheer spite, he spat some of the blood in his mouth into Michael's face.
Bad move.
It turned out, Michael had been holding back. He sure as hell wasn't now. In a flurry of blows Levi couldn't even begin to follow, Michael had Levi pinned to the wall with his hands an iron vice around Levi's neck. Levi kicked and scratched at Michael's hands, but his grip only got tighter. Just when he was on the edge of passing out, the pressure was gone and Levi slumped to the ground, barely conscious.
A hand on his chin forced him to open his eyes and swimming in front of him wasn't Michael but Command.
Command scoffed and pulled back.
"Again."
—————
After a particularly grueling day of combat training, they all found themselves piling into a taxi and warming up a booth at their favorite local bar.
Patrick had gone off to fetch another round of drinks and Alice had just made a crude joke that had Jordan in stitches. Levi laughed along with them, draining the last of his beer.
The next generation of England's greatest spies all piled into one booth in the trashiest of dive bars.
Levi wouldn't have had it any other way.
—————
It was so simple.
A mission. A target. Information to be extracted ... by any means necessary.
Still, with the man gagged and bound and wriggling at his feet on a stretch of crinkling blue tarp, Levi couldn't bring himself to make the first move.
"C'mon, kid. Don't have all day," Michael grunted. When Levi continued to hesitate, Michael rolled his eyes and snatched another knife from the bag for himself. He knelt next to the struggling man with a terrifying smile. The man's eyes looked ready to bulge out of his head.
"Now, Mr. Anderson," Michael started, dragging the blade down the target's chest. "I hear you've been naughty." The knife came to a halt on Anderson's stomach. "What's a bloke like you doing with millions of pounds in offshore bank accounts?"
Anderson tried to speak through the gag and Michael dug the knife in harder, drawing blood through the shirt. "What was that?" he asked sweetly, tugging the gag from Anderson's mouth.
He started babbling, the words tumbling out while tears streamed down his face. "I don't know what you're talking about I have a family I don't do anything like—"
"That's enough from you, Philip," Michael said and shoved the gag back into the man's mouth. He sobbed pitifully into the fabric. Michael's tone was no longer teasing and his eyes glinted dangerously. "Now my friend here," Michael drawled, glancing up at Levi and narrowing his eyes. "Is going to ... encourage you to let us know who your contacts are."
Michael got back up and fixed Levi with a chilling stare. Levi clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze. With a deep breath, Levi fell to his knees beside the man, his hands white-knuckled around the hilt of his knife.
"Remember, Mr. Anderson. All you have to do is give us their names and this will all be over." Michael nodded at Levi. Levi squeezed his eyes shut before rucking up Anderson's shirt, taking the blade and slicing it deeply through the muscles of Anderson's stomach.
The sobs turned into screams and as blood began to pour over Levi's hands, each cut came easier than the last.
Anderson broke faster than Levi'd expected and once he was done speaking, Michael wordlessly handed Levi a gun.
Levi looked at the gun like he'd never seen one before in his life.
"But you said—" even as Levi said it, he felt the naivete creeping in.
"I know what I said. End it."
"But—"
Michael snapped. He slammed the gun into Levi's hand, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and shoved him forward. "Do it, Agent," he snarled.
With blood still smeared across Levi's shirt, his pants, and his hands, he looked Anderson in the eye and pulled the trigger.
—————
Levi, Jordan, Patrick, and Alice all stood at attention, backs straight and chins up.
Command stalked in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back, watching them with narrowed eyes. Michael leaned against the wall behind Command with his arms crossed over his chest, looking more bored than anything else.
"Patroclus."
Shit.
"Michael told me what happened on your last assignment," Command went on conversationally. He paused, his dark eyes drilling into Levi's before walking away to stalk down the line again. "Did you find the assignment too ... challenging?"
"No, sir, I—"
"Too violent?"
"No, sir—"
"Then why—" Command snapped, turning on his heel to glare once again at Levi and make his way back over. Out of the corner of his eye, Levi could see Jordan's jaw clench. "—did you hesitate to pull the trigger?"
"Sir, I thought the conditions were—"
Command barked out a laugh. "Conditions? I thought I taught you better than that, boy." Out of nowhere, there was a gun in Command's hand and he fired off two shots. There was a searing pain in Levi's side and thigh. He gasped and stumbled backward, but Command was there and he fisted a hand in Levi's shirt before he could fall.
Beside him, Patrick, Jordan, and Alice still stood at perfect attention, but Levi could see the way Patrick's hands were trembling.
"Conditions mean nothing." Command's voice was quiet in his ear. "There are no conditions here. You do the job cleanly or you don't do it at all. There are no loose ends. You have to know when to pull the trigger."
He sighed and leaned back as if it pained him. He brought a hand to the side of Levi's face and the gentle touch was in sharp contrast to the pain radiating from Levi's leg, his side. "Son, there is nothing I want to see more than for you to succeed, but if you pull something like this again the consequences will be more severe than a couple of flesh wounds."
Levi's jaw clenched and he nodded once. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Command whisked away and stalked down the line once again like nothing had happened. "I'm glad we see eye to eye. You're dismissed. Oh, and you should probably get someone to look at those wounds, Agent Patroclus."
—————
Levi couldn't remember the last time he wasn't in pain. He'd been in the Heracles Project for ... what, two years? Three? It had all blended together into a blur of fighting and training and blood. So much blood.
Which brought him to now, bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of Michael, waiting for the older agent to make the first move. He did, but Levi could see it coming and he ducked out of the way, landing a blow of his own before blocking one of Michael's.
The fight dragged on and the look on Michael's face went from cocky to shocked. See, Levi had spent a lot of time in the past few years doing hand-to-hand with a whole spread of people and he'd learned that everyone, everyone, had a tell.
And he'd found Michael's.
Before long, he had Michael pinned to the ground and he put up a valiant struggle before he slumped and tapped out. Levi got back to his feet and offered Michael a hand.
He took it and nodded once at Levi. "Nice fight, kid," he muttered before walking away.
Command was a few paces away and leaning against a stack of mats. He smiled and walked over, settling a steady hand on Levi's shoulder.
"Good job, son."
Levi's heart soared. Three words that flooded him with more joy than Christmas morning.
Levi smiled back and there was a glint of something sharp in his eyes.
Agent Patroclus was just getting started.